Mistral: A Musang's Story
by Petty Officer 'Waffles
Summary: A special forces soldier from the Philippines ends up in Remnant but instead of getting a break from his work, he gets thrown back into familiar territory, while a White Fang demoted lieutenant causes an internal power struggle within the White Fang. !CorruptMistralKingdomAU, Post-Season 3, OCs, Team RNJR. Rated M for Safety. First Story Warning. (PM for OCs to be put in)
Chapter 1

 _'thoughts'_

"speech"

* **sound effects/labels** *

 **Musang- Saan ang lugar ko? Late Afternoon**

It wasn't every day that a person would be trudging through enough dense foliage of a jungle, but it is the everyday lifestyle for this veteran "Musang". (1)

Problem is that, this is a different jungle environ that felt unreal than all of his dreams or even nightmares could conjure. Whereas this condensed vegetation was the only thing that felt normal which was simply the every 4-5 inches of fern/tree/bush that overlapped each other to just end up making a wall of a lush green, smudge of brown from a tree trunk or branch.

Some of the plants and animals were pretty alien to him as it gets... with the exception of something that looks like bamboo.

It was really just a wall of vegetation that felt impenetrable to most of the untrained eye, or unappreciative.

What made the Musang feel very odd about where he was, is the ambiance. Hearing the croaks from the residential amphibians, the constant clicking from insects, the caws from the local avians, but sometimes all of this can completely go to a sudden silence with only the sounds of his mud-crusted boots squishing constantly jungle floor.

If you lived and fought in a jungle for a long time, absolute silence could have many meanings... and normal is not in that vocabulary.

It did give a feeling that he was being watched...

A thought struck his mind in exasperation during the walk.

' _Ayoko ito ng gubat, nothing about this feels right_ '

In perspective, being in a hostile territory, alone and with dwindling supplies (3), was not something that crossed his mind recently. There was more concerning matters at hand.

A ruptured moon? Pitch-black monstrosities that resemble animals with the sizes of them being a couple of feet larger than their "real" counterparts? Is it all just a ploy by god to be forsaken?

It was lucky enough that the monstrosities did not notice him.

Perhaps it was a lucky amulet he wore because his fellow brethren in combat said it was battalion tradition? Or maybe his ashen and mud face paint in combination with camouflage netting laced with the local vegetation draped over himself, made him look as he was a monstrosity himself in retrospect?

Suddenly, the harmony of the jungle came back, easing his mind back out a potential panic.

He muttered to himself in a quiet tone, just enough for even him to confuse it with a thought in his head.

"Wag kang mawalan ng pag asa... o mamatay ko?"

Maybe if he found a local village , he might be lucky enough to have no language barrier with the locals. Best bet for now, keep walking...

* * *

 **Emergency Exit for White Fang Base-Late Afternoon (Mistral sleeper cell)**

A White Fang member standing in the middle of a jungle may pose serious questions, but it isn't a problem when there isn't a spec of civilization to say those questions. As the saying goes, "if a tree falls in a forest, does every animal give a shit?".

That unfortunate fang member's name is Tawny, just Tawny. Faunus orphans in Vale sometimes dropped their surnames when reaching adulthood because it often held no importance to who they were. A family name means nothing when you there is no family behind it.

Tawny stood at about 5'8, a bit scrawny, raven-esque shoulder length frizzled hair ,sunburnt skin, leopard-like ears with tail to match, and an average in chest size. Okay... she tried to argue it was average in size, others argued she had a small size... THAT IS NOT IMPORTANT. But... a few fellow fang members did say she was attractive at least, so chest size is not something to talk about. Her clothing was more in the lines of fashion since she came from Vale city, compared to the locals.

The Resume of Tawny? Does that matter?  
Ex-Valean White Fang lieutenant, former faunus rights activist, and lastly the former store manager of From Dusk till Dawn's Video Rental.

From Dusk till Dawn's Video Rental store, however... was just a short lived entrepreneurship since it was established a few months after the Schnee Dust Company released a movie/tv cloud service called Dustflix on the Dustnet. The owner simply scrapped his losses and went back to the focus on his dust shop.

With her level of experience, she at least could of received a more thoughtful role when she ended up in Mistral. Not guard duty because of her meager combat experience.

Not like it mattered , since she is just a mook now, her words really meant nothing at this point , shes stuck with this role now.

Just a mook...

She took a slouched stance , dust rifle lazily drooping on the floor, feelings of boredom, discomfort, and anger filled her.

It was baffling however that she got transferred to the Mistral cell, like in those popular film and tv dramas with a cop or some sort soldier that pissed off the higher-ups and got themselves sent to a place where it was either falling apart, or they could care less about the protagonist.

Except since she was branded as a terrorist, so it was probable that she'll end at on a chopping block.

 _'Do they still have chopping blocks in Remnant?_

 _..._

 _That was a great war movie so theres gotta be truth in television?'_

If she ever came back to Vale, civilization, or even get the stupid dustnet working at the installation, she needed to look that up.

So, guard duty.

Her job was simple to say the least, take a couple of peeks above the underground White Fang installation, report back on the grimm/search activity, and sometimes laugh at an occasional recon bullhead flying by. (Who the hell sees anything in this jungle?)

Reality is...

She hated this posting, it was questionable, if not absolutely sickening, The Mistral outer regions decorated itself in lush green, vibrant jungles that would make for a great picture, or a great story about visiting it.

In all honesty, obscene amounts of humidity, heat, and the constant fear of a grimm jumping from right below you and ripping out your throat is something that many of the White Fang of Mistral cell don't exactly care to much about. It was practically a way of life for the jungle faring White Fang members.

Being from the Vale's White Fang, she could joyously tell many stories about the lifestyle Vale actually had, compared to the boorish simply life the Mistral jungle folk live with the lack of any entertainment at the Fang base, and awful weather conditions.

The White Fang den composed of quite a few faunus locals from the neighboring villages.

If conflict ever occurred with this White Fang den, these faunus have the background to survive the jungle region. But a guerrilla fighting mentality? They're mostly farmers for Oum's sakes, what do they know?

Local villages stayed out of the White Fang's business , as long the White Fang partook none of their activities nearby the villages. Some of the locals did like the selling motto behind the White Fang, so they offered up in joining.

So... Tawny, is not a jungle survivalist, not a combat specialist, and not even close to a nature lover.

So why her?

How did she end up here?

Ah right... her different approaches

She was one of those people, that created infighting within the ranks since she was a lieutenant in her recent years before exile because some preferred her approaches more than other Fang members.

Instead of resorting to terrorist attacks, she preferred the concepts of blackmailing, intelligence gathering, and propaganda that was given to the humans to support their cause.

Extremists, while they enjoyed the intelligence gathering that she dealt with, the concept of any human cooperation just served with lengthy disagreements and sometimes leading to bloodshed among the indifference.

The extremist people of the White Fang, like Adam Taurus just dropped the idea of infighting within the faction, by sending off the troublesomes to be "useful to somes".

How did they take care of the troublesomes?

This base in particular was a prime example.

The underground base was an important supply cache that handled a generous chunk of the White Fang's weapons across the four kingdoms, granted they were the shoddy, discount , and mass produced weapons that most of the goons ran around with, without these weapons, the goons would just be running around with even cheaper, useless weapons that don't even cause a on aura-users. Granted, majority of the weapons were just rusting from the lack of maintenance and proper storage.

Not like this information mattered to her anymore, this place served more as a punishment to some of the undesirables. Running away from this base is suicide.

Last guy who did so, came back 2 days later with a festering wound on his right arm, dehydration based on his swollen eyes, and lastly a face that screams 'kill me'. Apparently he couldn't find the local trails leading to the villages as easily as the locals. When the fellow fang members dragged him to the base's infirmary,and later trying to amputate the arm due to the infection was too much.

The bastard lieutenant decided to make a example of the deserter, letting the amputation take place, but do NOT stop the bleeding. The bastard didn't kill him out of mercy, but out of sheer discontempt for trying to desert the base and his comrades.

When word of the execution got out, it became truly evident. The Mistrali jungle cell is a hellpit that many non-local White Fang members actively avoid, except for the faunus from the local populace... this is the home to them.

Now to her...since she was here, her live expectancy just took a toll. Her career for anything else related to her resume was a total waste.

Her willpower was shriveled up and she lost most of her self-confidence, which casually allowed the White Fang lieutenant-in-charge to sexually harass her while shoveling jobs on-base that no one wants put up with, like Guard duty.

Outside the base...

WHY?

The harassment was infuriating enough, a guy like that with no respect for women, how did he even become a Lieutenant?

More importantly, guard duty in the Oum forsaken, hot, sticky, mosquito riddled, and sometimes foul smelling jungle, she was sarcastically thankful to her faunus heritage.

Vale also didn't deal with this crappy weather, and leaving the base's intoxicating cool breeze of air conditioning just to do her job makes the air-conditioning more of a privilege at this point . So here she was, 10-15 feet away from the underground installation's entrance hatch, it also occurred to her... Why did she have to wear a mask in these conditions anyways? The sweat and humidity lingering in-between her face and the grimm-like mask is the equivalent of having a sauna on your face, in addition to being in a sauna. Would it be even troublesome if someone that was not a local faunus saw her face?

She coherently mumbled to herself , "Just the last hour... till the day shift ends. Maybe if I just leave the hatch open and let a stray grimm run in and eat that asshole alive , starting with the arms for irony sakes. Oh... wait... Can't let the younger kids get eaten by a grim."

This was a bad time for her to try to turn herself around in the White Fang, especially at a Mistral jungle base, she should of deserted the White Fang earlier.

Tawny's left ear just tinged a bit.

Something didn't feel right, she felt unusually, lightheaded?

Her skin became flushed with a discomforting tingle , and her breathing became a bit short heaved.

That's when she just broke down.

She tossed her dust rifle into the floor out of sheer anger, and within one swooping motion, pulled the straps to her mask up past her faunus appendages, dropping the mask to the floor without any care.

Not like it mattered, the symptoms that she was experiencing did not care a single bit about the removal of the mask or dropping a weight of a dust rifle.

Still feeling lightheaded, the fang member squatted down and shut her eyes in discomfort. Placing her hands on both of her feline ears, she then let out a low growl in exaggeration of her suffering. The sounds of the jungle had no help with how she felt about her situation, every ***croak*** , ***caw*** , ***chirp*** became slightly more amplified.

 _'Okay, I'm just going to walk back into base for 5 minutes then walk out, and be perfectly new'_

Opening her eyes, in her face... the one thing she didn't ever expect to see,

The end of a black rifle aimed at her face...

* * *

 **Musang- Emergency exit for White Fang supply depot**

Sergeant Mark Bulacan of the Philippine Army Scout Rangers stationed at the northern island of Luzon had not had much intentions of holding someone at gunpoint in his first encounter with the local populace but to be straightforward.

Prejudice was sometimes a safeguard in the unexpected midst of any deployment zones.

The mask, the rifle, that hatch next to the girl girl, did no help with quelling his assertions about that prejudice.

A mask like that could usually signify a few of the following, a criminal, a revolutionary, a terrorist, or a religious fanatic. He only wanted to think religious fanatic since the mask resembled the unusual wildlife he came across, so maybe they worshiped them or something? Those ears and tails do not really answer much questions too.

 _'She kind of looks like... one of those japanese anime my nephew watches'_

Either way, regardless of who she is... The gun signified a volatile danger, a danger of not being able to know if she might shoot at first sight.

There was sort of an etiquette of holding people at gunpoint from what he learned in some operations

A rule of thumb when holding people at gunpoint, professionally:

Never have your rifle or anywhere of the rifle barrel in grabbing range, keep aware of your surroundings, use an assertive voice for intimidation, trigger discipline varies accordingly.

 _'Does she know? She doesn't seem in the mood to figure it out.'_

As much as Bulacan wanted to start shouting at her for intimidation factor, she was showing early signs of heatstroke.

Heatstroke is a very common issue in his region, he'd still remember the number of people who'd suffered through heatstroke during selection phases when he first started out. Medics on standby would drag out trainees, recruits, or selection campers by arms and legs. It also brought back some memories of some family members being hospitalized sometimes because of overworking in the field.

The thought of decency came up...

 _'It might reduce the false information she gives me if I show some sympathy'_

Bulacan decided to take a calm approach, remembering the hatch door nearby, he put two and two together since it was pretty obvious as is.

Hopefully his english was decent enough to work,

Exaggerating the tightening of the grip on his rifle , the Musang rung "Slowly... stand up"

The fang member arose from her squat, and stumbled a bit when her legs erected.

"Now the door, turn it on"  
The fang member's feline ear twitched a bit in her confusion. She stuttered out,

"W-what?"

Bulacan quickly noticed his slight blurb in his english, and corrected himself.

"Open it and get inside..."

Fearful of the man, she preceded to do so.

Metal gears sung out a hymn of clanking as the hatch opened, much to the man's awe, he tried to compose himself. Proceeding to command the girl with clear as possible instructions.

"Halikana! Anytime now! Go!"

The girl half-assed nodded and stumbled inside, leaving the mask and her rifle behind, the plant draped man followed suit.

Suddenly, feeling a blast of the air-condition the base had to offer, it could of been a godsend to him, but he shrugged the pleasures off. He needed information...

After they slowly descended down the hatch door, he nodded his head a bit aiming it at the door controls, the girl barely got the message but she closed the doors in a slight drunken haze of fumbling around.

 **Tawny- Entrance hallway to underground supply depot**

The doors closing with their gear clacking song , felt like a hymn of death, and comfort.

This entrance just composed of a 3 people wide and very lengthy hallway, with concrete filling everything in vision, all the way to another door down the hallway.

If felt great to not have to deal with the jungle for now, but if her fellow fang members found out she left her guard down, and had a human sneak up on her, she would be considered a failure to her species to have a human try this. That's exactly what her fellow faunus would say.

A human

A HUMAN!

Her faunus abilities were more than enough to pick up his footsteps and movement in general.

Tawny's mouth was halfway open when she was about to ask.

"Wh-"

Her words was still halted entirely, thanks to the unusual rifle being brandished in clear sight.

That rifle had a different look compared to most of the weapons...

It was long , plastic looking, a carry handle that functioned also as a weapon sight, with a sleek body.

On the side of the receiver held the words

 **DEPT. OF NATIONAL DEFENSE**

 **5.56mm**

 **GOVERNMENT ARSENAL**

 _'Definitely not Atlas weaponry, and most probably not hunter weaponry either since it doesn't even look like it can transform.'_

During her time as a lieutenant, Tawny's work as a lieutenant gave her insight

5.56mm is an unusual caliber, it seems too light to use against grimm. Majority of hunter weapons usually use some form of shotshells or heavy calibers because their effectiveness against grim, in conjunction with dust combinations, they became a great match altogether.

 _'Come to think of it, his clothing is entirely a different story.'_

He wore a camouflage that composed of of mixes of dark brown, pale brown ,black, and green, a olive drab green vest loaded with rifle magazines, a backpack that seemed to be stuffed entirely to a point where it extrudes out of his back by a whole foot.

His complexion on the other-hand is hard to look at, his face was covered in a near pitch-black with the same olive drab green color while his hands shown a skin color that looked similar to the locals.

The most familiar thing she could discern was a shortsword-like weapon in a wooden sheath, the sheathe itself was attached to his vest.

On the sheath of the blade, bold letters run across his wooden sheath.

* **Anong problema ko? Walang problema ko!** *

The language felt similar to Remnish but it took a weird curve.

 _'If he was a soldier, he would probably would have better equipment... maybe he's from the Mistrali govern-'_

"Where is the nearest village?", the unusual man interupted her thought process.

"Um... a-ah-I don't really know, I don't go outside here much."

As much she wanted to give him false information, she just transferred her a couple days ago

 _'Okay... maybe hes playing dumb, the 20 questions deal is common for interogation.'_

Another question came from her interogator.

"Okey lang, How about... "those" animals?"

The question made her fustrated.

 _'Was he refering to fa-'_

"The black ones..."

 _'Wait... what?'_

"Grimm? Have you lived under a really deep rock or something to not know?"

The man's grip on the rifle immediately lost the slack due to the insult.

 _'WHY DID I SAY THAT? NOW I'M GOING TO DI-'_

"Last question... you seem like such a pretty girl, with clothes like that.

….

….

Why are you here in this jungle?"

That question just confused her, his accent was starting to come out and come back to his native tongue. To her confusion, he went back to a much more Valean accent.

His face took a darker shadow as he tilted his down.

"No matter... take off your belt."

 _'Please kill me now, I don't deserve this'_

"And slide the rifle magazines to me in the belt"

…

…

…

She did as she was ordered.

The man at question proceded to collect the rifle magazines while still directing the rifle's barrel at her.

"Tapos na, just stay inside when you let me out"

 _'I REALLY need to desert the White Fang now'_

* * *

 **Musang-50 meters away from Emergency Exit (Above ground)**

Survival in the jungle really depends on a lot of things, having a gun is one of the things that could help to a certain degree.

Being a Scout Ranger guide, really required almost all the knowledge possible, so a single Scout Ranger (SR) can most definitely cover most of the knowledge needed for a 5 man team.

This theft of a rifle with spare magazines, however, was NOT exactly a skill he specialized in.

SRs learn a vast majority of skillsets to make up for the fact, that the country itself is mostly equipped with Vietnam-war era equipment whereas majority of the world is already up to date in 21st century tech.

With notion aside.

 _'Two rifles... I'll have to toy around with the new rifle... it looks so...'_

An older era Atlas dust rifle had a similar chunkiness to the newer model but with surprisingly better reliability.

To this Musang however, the words on the rifle became of interest to him as he inspected the rifle reciever.

* **ATLAS/SDC Manufactured**

 **FOR MILITARY/HUNTER/STUDENT USE ONLY**

 **CAL-.308 LIGHTNING DUST ROUNDS ONLY***

 _'Ano ang ATLAS at SDC, What is this "lightning dust"?_

His train of thought was brought out of a snap.

"You know * **GLUG** *, while I have seen people steal from others at gunpoint, I've never seen a soldier as shoddy looking as yourself steal with an empty gun. No honor among you soldier types?"

A middle-aged man with greying hair, wearing a combination of a grey and black clothing with a dress shirt , stood 5 feet away from him, leaning on a random rock. With the scythe in hand and a flask of whiskey, he had the most shit-eating grin on his face... Still didn't make up for the fact he looked as hes sweating up a monsoon.

"PUTANGINA!"

Even for a seasoned person like Bulacan, this was too abrupt for him.

In a sudden flay, the Sergeant immediately dropped the dust rifle and magazine belt onto the jungle floor, his black rifle still slung over his back.

Right when his hand reached for the recycled car tire infused grip of his blade, the scythe-holder gave the sergeant an attempt of calming him down.

"Aye don't mean any harm or scare you."

The Musang felt... an unusual vibe about about this man, it kind of reminded him of one of his friends back in the regular army, before he became a candidate soldier for scout ranger training.

With the exception that sneaking ability...

"Look... I don't know who you are... but we should walk a little further away from here"

* * *

AN: First time story writer here , I'm just experimenting on fanfiction for my first time.

Other than there are a few things I need to define and/or point out

Musangs- A term used for the Army Scout Rangers of the Philippines Armed Forces, based from the civet cat. A jungle cat that eats coffee beans and can't digest it. (Look it up, its interesting.)

The tagalog here may be pretty poor in quality, since its been a really long time since I worked with tagalog. Those of you who can't understand it from a non-tagalog standpoint, its partially intentional. (Google translate will partially help)

As for Segeant Mark Bulacan, he's actually not going to have a lot of fancy things in particular, annnnd for Tawny... man... I have a lot of things stored for her.

Yes, there will be team RNJR later on.

Anyways what I plan to write is a different take on soldier in Remnant type of stories. Instead of the soldier being technologically equipped/guns being able to take on everything, I put in a special forces soldier (which is also overdone) from a country (Philippines). The philippines government is kind of a sham to its own troops,, but... with having to deal with so many insurrections for so long the military itself has to learn to get by without these technologies. A funny contrast to the world of Remnant where you got FREAKING MECHS AND ROBOT ARMIES.

I'm trying to avoid the techno-thriller approach to stories but I'm just learning thats all.

Lastly, any pms for editors would be appreciated.


End file.
